The mask that shields his eyes.
The windows to his soul
Illumination of his greatness and echoes of passion
with a deep sigh of urge.
The lace mask that nets escaping thoughts,
Sings in dead tongues,
Renders him unidentical in the night.
Makes him the rock that knows no creed.
Concealing what he hides; the truth refracted by his lies,
His costume now his second skin.
Beneath the mask are gentle eyes,
Tender and fragile,
Real and rare.
Positively one of a kind.
Beyond the mask he flaunts his complexities.
Like a medieval god, he bears no soul.
ALL MODELS FROM JORAM MODEL MANAGEMENT
PHOTOGRPHY BY GIULIO MOLFESE @PHOTO4FASHION